Victoria
by Circumlocutious
Summary: A short story of who Victoria was before she became a Vampire.


She was beautiful.

Her chocolate locks spilled over her shoulders: dark and voluptuous. The large curls made soft pillows whenever she turned her head—a striking contrast to her fair rose-tinted cheek that sparkled in sunlight. And the eyes—her eyes—their breathtaking cruelty; no one could refuse their wordless demands. She wasn't human. She couldn't be human. No creature could ever be this unearthly. And yet, she could walk, speak, breathe, laugh, flirt, touch, kiss... and she could do them better than everyone.

_**Victoria**_

My obsession started in High school.

I was 16 when she stopped being my friend. We had grown up together, Victoria and I. Inseparable—the best of friends. We did everything together. We lived on the same road, went to the same school, and rode the same bus. We used to sit at the front together, giggling at whatever made ten year old girls giggle. Now she sits in the the back with the other beautiful people. I haven't moved.

You see, I'm ugly. My hair doesn't cascade down my shoulders and it doesn't burn cinnamon in the sunlight. It sits flat and colorless against my freckled and uneven skin. My eyes do little to help the situation. They try to be green but fail into a muddy gray. I am shy. I am not outgoing and I'm not the life of the party. The other kids think I'm strange—they don't talk to me. They live their fairy-tale lives and I'm not in them. The plexi-glass window twists my reflection. It shows the real me: Awkward. Wrong. Alone. She is giggling, somewhere in the back of the bus—not with me.

_"...you're too needy. Please, just leave me alone,"_

_"But you're my best friend. My only friend—"_

_"Well, get a new one."_

_"But, I love you, Victoria," _

_"I don't love you."_

My cheeks still flush when I think about high school, when I think about her. Two years at college had only lessened my hatred for her. I was hoping it would change everything. I was hoping that I'd wake up one day, and not think about her. But I was wrong—five states away and I could still hurt. Only in the distraction of books, assignments, lectures, papers, is there relief—an oasis I escape to, regularly. Sometimes I am normal in this place. I have friends. I laugh. I flirt. I touch. I kiss... Here, I am safe. Here, I can forget the plexi-glass and giggles.

It was Halloween when my twisted reflection came back to haunt me.

* * *

It was one of those college costume parties. Kids, booze, drugs, sex—I never went to these parties in high school. I remember hearing stories the next day of how wasted so-and-so got and how what's-his-name jumped off the roof into the pool. Some of them were about Victoria—I hated those stories the most. The boys she'd kissed or the boys she's done other things with. I remember imagining myself as her: beautiful and perfect surrounded by boys who wanted me. The center of everything. _She_ was the center of everything.

But things were different now. I was no longer imagining myself at parties—I was invited. I remember that Halloween party. It was my Sophomore year. I remember my costume. I was a pixie. My green wings sparkled in the sea of black and red and orange. The green wisps of organza barely passing for a dress hugged my waist then fell weeping down my thighs. A thick layer of make-up hid the uneven skin and a box of dye transformed my lifeless hair into a molasses cherry. I could pass for pretty. And in my little lie of a world, I was.

Until I heard that giggle.

I remember my heart stopping, and then skipping. I remember the taste of "Witch's Brew" turning sour on my tongue. I remember the twisting anxiety in my stomach as I turned to the origin of that laughter I knew so well. Wisps of chocolate and cinnamon brushed his cheek as he moved across her face. His hands slid down her side while rough lips nipped her throat where erupted another giggle—bubbles in champagne. She bit her lower lip in rehearsed pleasure. Her white feathered wings swaying as they both moved to the beat of the throbbing dance floor. I could only stare. I was frozen. And then, I could feel my pathetic pixie wings beginning to tremble—heat licking up my body.

"Who's the Angel?"

Startled, I turned to see Jared standing next to me. I met him my first day here. We had kissed. We had screwed. I had seen that look in his face just before sex—you know, that longing. It was nothing to the expression that whipped across his face as he watched her. I'd seen _that _look before. I'd seen it everyday in high school. The obsession. Jared had never looked at me that way. I never made his eyes twinkle. I stood there, watching Victoria's thrall. He was dressed as a mad scientist—lab coat and chemical gloves. There was a sad twisted green pixie reflected in his safety goggles. _Plexi-glass. Giggles. _It was back. I was sitting on the yellow bus, looking at my reflection: Awkward. Wrong. Alone.

"Victoria. Her name is Victoria."

* * *

Weeks had passed, and my world changed. She had transferred here from another school, as Jared informed me, and was promptly the topic of conversation in my small circle of friends. She had them transfixed, distracted. I felt myself changing—closing up. Everyday I spoke less and less. Everyday I tried to escape, but high school had followed me. It had found my oasis, and was sucking it dry.

A tiny sliver of me, the pretty pixie on Halloween, tried to think beyond high school. _What if she's different, now? _ Everyone changes. Everyone grows up. The small piece of my existence that I'd found at college fought to stay alive. It fought for me. It was braver than me. I remembered the last conversation with Victoria. _She doesn't care about me anymore. _But the pixie had to know. The pixie had to find out. The pixie was the one who walked up to her one day after class.

"Victoria? Um, It's me. Surprise." I squeezed my text book as I heard myself speak. It was shrill and uneven. The pixie tried to remain optimistic, but I could feel it struggle. My skin turn cold as she turned throwing her gaze on me. My insides tightened. A brief flicker of recognition danced across her face before it was smothered by feigned ignorance.

"I'm sorry—" she smirked, "who are you?"

Awkward. Wrong. Alone.

I was mute. Frozen. I screamed for words, but the world gave me silence. She stood there watching me as a coiled arm slithered across her waist. Another snake. Rough lips found her neck, whispering in her ear, oblivious to my stupor. The corners of her mouth tilted in reaction but her eyes never left my face. They bored into my existence with lethal disinterest until the snake pulled her down hall. Her head followed, giggling as he hissed into chocolate locks. I felt the air leave me as the pixie was crushed in the wake of her giggle.

* * *

Sex. Alcohol. Drugs. And more sex. This was the only distraction I could find. The only one available to me now. My oasis was gone—stolen. The pixie was dead, and I was ugly, again. The molasses cherry had begun to fade revealing the lifeless color underneath. My color. Slipping. Slipping. Slipping. The months. My grades. My friends. It was all slipping. They thought I was being irrational, my friends did. They called me a martyr; a coward. And they were right—but it didn't change anything. The past came back, and it still didn't want me. I thought about the person who I'd become in college. The girl who could be pretty. The girl who could have friends. The girl who could go to parties. It was all a facade. I had run away—that was all. Nothing had really changed. The girl I'd deluded myself into thinking I'd become was just a mirage.

Time lost meaning as I lost myself in dixie cups and rolling paper. The nights were a toxic mess and the days were merely the moments in between. I had a new circle of friends who wanted to escape like I did. We didn't care about ourselves or each other. We worked hard to obtain the absence of feeling: plants, fungus, sugar cubes—whatever brought us closer to nothing.

I remember it being very dark that particular night.

I remember the smells and the sounds. I remember we were everywhere. Someone decided to go swimming. I remember following the crowd—wasted on my new distraction. Halloween was in a week, and I needed as many distractions as possible. There were five or six of us. Some of them were kissing each other and some of them kissing me. Did it matter? The boy was everywhere. I watched him move from one part of my body to the other. It was all very slow—delayed: the kissing, the groping, the screaming. _The screaming?_ He was screaming in my ear as a women behind him kissed his neck. She looked up, staring as me as I watched her kiss him. The thin red lines dripping from her mouth matched the color of her frantic eyes: Red.

I felt delayed panic as pain ripped through my body. The same frantic kiss that I was watching on the man who had screamed in my ear was now burning on my neck. I froze as the swell of pain broke violently through my body. I went to move my arms but they were pinned to my sides. Rings of iron encircled my wrists. I listened to myself scream—it was thick and heavy in the air. The woman had dropped the man who kissed me and watched curiously as faceless lips continued to move across my neck. An expression that I knew well consumed her face as she watched me burn: Jealousy—desire. I felt her growl as she lunged toward the creature at my neck. The lips released me and I fell on top of the man who had kissed me before he had screamed and turned cold. I watched the thirsty creatures tear themselves apart until flames filled my vision.

And then, it burned.

* * *

I knew before my eyes opened that they were red. I knew before I inhaled that I would not need to. I knew before I looked in a mirror that I was different. This was a new distraction—a new escape. And it burned.

I was trembling as the inferno raged in my throat. Every piece of me was seared, charred. I couldn't remember how to move, how to think. I was silent. I was stone. I tried to remember my place in the world but time was melting. Moments were pushed against each other and then spread thin. I fought to anchor my being somewhere—anywhere—but I couldn't win against the radiant flame. I stopped. The pain rejoiced as my will withdrew. It burned triumphant when a small sound floated across the pyre; their voices were barely audible over the roar.

"...result of the newborn frenzy."

Frenzy?

"...needs to feed. I'm taking her, Laurent."

Feed?

"...will not be responsible for her. Do you what you like, James. Just see to her thirst before..."

Thirst? _Thirst._

I felt my body explode as everything sprang to life. I knew the word without knowing. It was everything: the fire, the stone, the cold. It was _need_. I stood there trembling as I looked into the faces of the two men standing before me. Their eyes held the same color of the woman from before. _Blood. _I felt anger, confusion, and panic roll through my body—they rose their hands defensively watching these emotions burn across my face.

"We're not going to hurt you. You need to feed. We can help." The blonde man's head turned sideways as he spoke. His skin was wrapped tight across his body: each muscle threatened to tear through with the slightest movement. I watched him take me in. I felt his gaze pierce my being—he wanted it. He wanted me. I knew the expression well. I had seen it a hundred times. Only now, it was different. I was no longer a spectator—I was the spectacle. I felt a pull to run. _Escape. _His gaze ravaged my body; I had to run. _Run. _I felt my insides twist as he walked toward me.

"Careful, James. She is new," sang a smooth melodious voice. My eyes darted to the man. His eyes glowed a brilliant crimson against his skin. He looked anxious. Wary.

The thing he called James ignored him and moved closer—his eyes never leaving me. He slithered. I felt liquid fire gurgle in my throat as he reached out to touch my face. His fingers slowly slipped down my cheek and traced the contours of my collar bone. I screamed for my body to pull away from the creature, but I couldn't move. I was dead. His eyes followed his touch as it fell down my chest and then resting on my hip. His fingers were deliberate and light as he wrapped them around my wrist with sudden force.

It snapped.

I felt my body react and ripped my hand from his grasp. I was running. _Escape. _No, it was much different from running. I was hovering. Floating. Street lamps blurred into a single line of yellow in the black mess. _Escape._ I could feel the creature behind. I could... smell him. It filled my body with acid, fueling my legs. Fear. Panic. Anger. I felt all these. I could smell them. Taste them. See them. Hear them. Sounds of the night whipped around me as fled. I heard voices. Different from the two behind me, and yet familiar. They were swirling around my head, kissing my earlobes. One voice lifted above the rest. A laugh. A giggle. _Stop. _ I inhaled the scent that followed the giggle, and a new level of pain filled my throat.

"Victoria," I whispered.

I knew nothing else. The world was smoldering—embers. There was nothing but that voice, that scent in the chaos of my nightmare. I followed the sweet sound; what else was there?

Then I saw her, pushed against the back of a house. There were familiar sounds coming from inside. A party. It tinged the air with vomit and sex. The music beat the atmosphere as I felt bodies move back and forth. I could see her breath coalesce into soft clouds. Each one coming quickly after the other disappeared. She was an Angel, just as she had been a year ago. Snow flakes dusted the wings that had been thrown at her feet. A soft fur shawl covered her bare shoulders. I could see every goose bump on her thigh as it was furiously massaged by the man in front her. That familiar rehearsed smile danced on her perfect face sending giggles into the air. My vision was red. I watched her smile melt into confusion as I moved behind the man undoing his belt. Her lips moved to speak but froze as the man was ripped from her. He landed somewhere behind me—his head splitting against a street lamp. I heard every fissure as they made small canals across his cranium. I felt the pull of his blood—it made my throat ache—but it was not enough to tear me from the fragile creature that filled my vision. I'd felt her eyes on me before: dark, cool, confident. They could hold me like no other could. They could consume me like no other could. Now they were wide and filled with panic. They would dart from me to the dead man bleeding on the street lamp—fear locked her limbs. I hated her. And I wanted her.

"Who are you?" I'd heard the same question from a different voice. The voice from before was crushed velvet—not this ragged and frightened whimper.

I felt a smile creep on my lips. It blossomed into a mixture pure joy and terror. I shuddered as the combination, new and terrifying, swept through my body. The frenzy. The thirst. She started to run as she watched the emotion envelop me—but I was faster. My fingers dug into her neck and she tried to scream failing into a hoarse whisper. I could sense the creature James watching me, but he made no move to get closer. I could feel his smile. Victoria was clawing at my hand now—her ugly, beautiful face contorted in fear. I laughed.

"Victoria, It's me. Surprise." I listened as the words slipped off my tongue—my voice was smooth; liquid. The same flicker of recognition crossed her face only this time feigned ignorance didn't follow. _Plexi-glass. Giggles. _ She saw it all. The twisted reflection. I felt her try to escape as fear, guilt, pain, sorrow, played on her face—but my grip was iron. An alien instinct took over as her heart pounded beneath my palm. It was too much. I bent down and kissed her neck like I'd seen it kissed by so many before. Her skin was hot and smooth; it was the sweetest thing I'd ever touched. Her blood hit my tongue and hysteria caught me. I was everywhere: Her shoulders, her wrists, her chest, her lips. _Her lips._ I felt myself shake as sobs escaped my body. They didn't come with tears like I'd expected—just empty actions. I moved furiously across her face as her arms grew weak. Her eyes rolling into her head. Her last breathe swirled in my mouth as her heart stopped. It was euphoria. It was purgatory.

I let go and watched her lifeless body slip to the ground. It was still. Cold. The face I hated most, the face I desired most, was empty. I was free. I was dead. The first hints of morning hit her skin accentuating the scatter of my kiss across her body. Her fur shawl was lying at her feet. It was white and somehow untouched from the blood and chaos surrounding it. I picked it up, absently, and laid it across my shoulders. I looked up into the window and froze at the reflection looking back at me.

She was beautiful.

Her ember locks spilled over her shoulders: bright and voluptuous. The large curls made soft pillows whenever she turned her head—a striking contrast to her albescent cheek that sparkled in sunlight. And the eyes—her eyes—their breathtaking cruelty; no one could refuse their wordless demands. She wasn't human. She couldn't be human. No creature could ever be this unearthly. And yet, she could walk, speak, breathe, laugh, flirt, touch, kiss... and she could do them better than everyone.

I stood there transfixed at the image in the glass as a coiled arm slithered across my waist. The blonde terror tightened his grip as he looked at the window. He hissed into my scorching locks,

"Who are you?"

I shuddered as I felt his grip bore into my side. I was his, no matter how many times I escaped—he would always find me. An eternal game of cat and mouse. I looked at the couple staring back at me in the glass. I had seen them before. I'd seen them at high school. I'd seen them at parties kissing and laughing and touching. They were beautiful. They were everything I wanted. And they were everything I hated. The fur fluttered in the breeze filling my head with her scent, disgusting and divine.

And something locked.

I looked into the glass and smiled that rehearsed smile I'd seen so many times before. A small giggle floated in the air as I moved my lips and spoke:

"Victoria. My name is Victoria."


End file.
